He would be better off without you.

The thought came flying out of nowhere, like a Mack truck slamming into my Volkswagen Bug of emotions.

It happened at Target on an otherwise ordinary Friday in early November.

As I wandered the grocery aisles in search of a snack to bring to an event I would be attending the next day, I realized it was only the second time in months that I had gone shopping alone much less attended any kind of event.

I trudged past displays of cosmetics, scented shampoos, and colorful soaps that were Target’s feeble attempt at upscale. I thought back to when I used to purchase these types of products, back before interstitial cystitis and migraines and SIBO and an eventual root cause diagnosis of Lyme disease shoved them out of my life. I didn’t miss the products themselves, but, man, I missed the easiness of simple life decisions. I missed my social life and community with people who use scented products without a second thought. I missed who I used to be.

In the bakery section, the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake pleaded with me from behind the glass case. I thought about bringing one home for my husband, but as tired as I was I knew that I wouldn’t be able to strong-arm the temptation myself, and my Babesia-Lyme prison guards do not allow sugar, dairy, or gluten. I’ve learned the hard way that when I defiantly carry these things past them, I get a sound beating and thrown into solitary confinement.

Sorry, Silver Fox, no cheesecake tonight.

And that is when the dark thought T-boned me. My husband would be better off without me. I’m no fun, I’m nothing more than pain and expensive medications and supplements. I’m mostly homebound these days. And we don’t know when – or if –  this battle against Lyme disease and its cronies will end.

If you read my short memoir, Papier Mâché Princess,  then you know there was a brief season when I thought I might be better off without my husband. But never had I been depressed to a point where I thought he would be better off without me. The thought scared me, even though I knew it was a lie.

I also knew I couldn’t let it take root. So right there, in the middle of Target, I shouted.

No, it wasn’t out loud. I haven’t reached that point. (At least not yet.)

But internally, I shouted NO! THAT’S A LIE! And then I began mentally listing reasons why my husband is blessed to have me as a wife.

I mean, for starters, I’m his own personal comedy show. Even when I’m not unintentionally making him laugh by tripping, spilling, dancing, or forgetting the reason I was in the room I just entered, we laugh a lot. A. LOT. I never imagined in this fifth decade of life that I would still be giggling like a teenager, but we do that to each other. Laughter is good, like a medicine according to the Bible (and modern science), so I’m good for him, I told myself.

Also, I’m good at getting him outside of his emotional comfort zone, and even better at getting him outside into the sunshine for long walks and talks. We have built a life from years of beautiful – and not so beautiful – memories and adventures.  Our very souls are knit together. In my heart of hearts I know that he would NOT be better off without me, yet the enemy hit me hard with that lie in that particular moment.

And then, just when my counter arguments crowned me reigning champion in the ugly-thought battle, shame clobbered me from behind. Shame that I – a joy-filled Christian –  would have such negative thoughts to begin with, that I could feel depressed when I am so very blessed. Shame that I didn’t have enough faith for healing, as some would have me believe. Shame that I felt shame…

The internal battles continued all the way through checkout and the drive home. As soon as I folded my grocery bags, I grabbed my phone and shared my thoughts with a friend who, though surprised, simply let me talk it out. Later, when my husband arrived home and changed out of his faded, grease-stained maintenance uniform, I shared again. It didn’t take long for him to take a hammer to the lies, shattering them into pieces I could sweep up and dump into the trash. No more spiraling thoughts.

I’m glad that I didn’t keep them to myself.

Taking dark thoughts out into the light is scary but can be a huge step in destroying them. I was hesitant to voice mine. I realized that way down deep in my little coin pocket, I had a sticky pride stain. I like that people associate my name with joy. Over the years friends and coworkers have gifted me with shirts, a necklace, pictures, and knick-knacks with JOY written on them. It’s even tattooed on my inner arm, choose joy, Hab. 3:17-19. Who would I be if I lost my joy? If I confessed that I was feeling discouraged and weary? That I was tired of the physical pain? Would my coaching clients quit? Would I need to give up a group leader position I held for an online group? Would friends stop calling and visiting?

As I sat down with my pride, reflecting on its deceitfulness, I was able to renounce lies and replace them with truth.

Sadness, and grief don’t have to hide; they can actually walk side by side. Joy can put an arm around grief, offering comfort and steadiness. The defeat only comes when grief and sadness try to disguise themselves, pretending they are something else, and inviting shame to tag along.  Or when depression hides, hoping it will eventually become joy, isolating instead of letting joy sit with it.

In Papier Mache Princess, I wrote:

 I can let go…and remain in tandem with the trustworthy One. Free falling with the Lord has allowed me to embrace the abundant life He created for me, the life he created me for. A life of inner peace, joy, and contentment no matter what the circumstances. With the Lord, I can head into the unknown courageously and expectantly.  Because we always end up in a place of abundance.

I wrote those words knowing that He had carried me through addictions and sorrows and marriage struggles and a mass shooting and so much more…but before the unknown of Lyme Disease.

I know He remains faithful today, that He is the same even if the struggle of chronic illness is new for me. I’ve seen the promise of Psalm 65:11-12 in the past and I know it is true in the present:

You crown the year with a bountiful harvest; even the hard pathways overflow with abundance. The grasslands of the wilderness become a lush pasture, and the hillsides blossom with joy. (NLT)

There is abundance to be found in the hard places.

Finding it begins with recognizing the lie that the hard place is all there is. We don’t deny that there is a hard place, just that it is not all there is, and that as believers we are not without hope and a Comforter in the midst of it. We can shout “Liar!” when the enemy tries to tell us otherwise.

But it doesn’t stop there. God often uses community to help us in our battles.

Friends, family, counselors, coaches and/or support groups, can hold up our shield of faith when our own arms are so tired they are shaking. But they can’t support what they don’t know is going on. We must be real, allow ourselves to be vulnerable. Not with everyone, but with our own Aaron and Hurs:

Moses’ arms soon became so tired he could no longer hold them up. So Aaron and Hur found a stone for him to sit on. Then they stood on each side of Moses, holding up his hands. So his hands held steady until sunset. As a result, Joshua overwhelmed the army of Amalek in battle.  Exodus 17:12-13 NLT

In the hard places, there are some things that only God can do. There are also some actions I can take myself. And then there are some things I can let friends and loved ones carry for me as they walk alongside of me.

And in this way, I discover that abundance and joy have never left my side. Even in the hard places.

Father, I thank you for friends and family who have been so good to me in this season of hard. You have blessed me with abundance in the midst of it all. I pray for those who are reading this, who are in a very real place of darkness from chronic pain and illness, or from situations that seem hopeless. Will You speak hope and joy into their souls today and bring people alongside them that will paint a landscape of abundance for them to see?  Most of all, let them know the truth of Psalm 23:4, that even when we walk through the darkest valley, we do not need to be afraid for you are close besides us, your rod and your staff protect and comfort us.  In Jesus Name, amen.

Note: I started this post in December, and then a short time later I learned of a young person taking their life due to the chronic pain of Lyme Disease. And then another one in January. Please, please reach out to someone if you are struggling. Here is the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255) . I know the pain is real. So is the love of Christ.

Love and prayers,

Marie